His December
by javajive
Summary: Takes place around ”Eggtown” - Kate and Sawyer: Why she reacted the way she did. - Part II: plays out around "Whatever happened happened" - Kate, Juliet, Sawyer - Story deals with loss -
1. Chapter 1

Takes place around "Eggtown". Kate and Sawyer. Why she reacted the way she did. One shot.

_-_

_This is something written a while ago. Gets dark – obviously - since it deals with loss. It is all my imagination of course, but when I watched the Eggtown scene I just thought there was something else behind her rather unreasonable reaction. I imagined that either she had had problems getting pregnant in the past or experienced a loss. - Note : the timeline is completely taken out of the air - but thanks to 'Lost Fan's' perceptive input I 've changed the title to bring it a bit closer to the series._

_Disclaimer: None of it is mine. None of it._

* * *

**His December**

* * *

.

Claire stretches her arms up, pinning up the laundry on the line. The sun plays, throwing golden reflections in her hair.

"Oh - can you get Aaron for me?"

Her sweet face smiling, nodding encouraging, waiting for Kate to pick up the baby. Who wouldn't jump for a chance? He is a gorgeous little plump thing. All pink dimpled skin and vanilla. She knows this without ever having touched him. But she can't.

"Just pick him up and rock him a little bit."

_She can't._

She ought to just reach out and take Aaron. That's what any normal person would have done. It would be so simple. But it's impossible. She can hardly look at him – it tears her apart. She mumbles something to the extent that she's not good with babies.

_Not good with babies. That would be an understatement._

* * *

Five. There are five of them now. Sometimes she lines them up – imagining them like little pebbles laid out on a window sill. She touches them – one by one – picks up the memory of each and every one of them and relives the pain. A bittersweet discomforting reminiscence. It's beyond her; how you can miss someone you didn't even know. Miss them so much nothing lines up anymore.

* * *

_May._

The first one – an accident – the result of sweet, awkward fumbling in the backseat of Tom's beat up old heap of a car. Such a cliché, she never even told him. Then, the unimaginable within days of finding out, she had lost it in a pool of blood in her mother's toilet. She wasn't stupid. She knew it was for the best and that they had been given a break, a respite from taking an impossible decision. But she wasn't prepared for the grief that had followed. Eyes that would well up at the most inconvenient of times. A throat that would tighten at the sight of pregnant bellies - unexplicably. She wasn't ready to be a mother – she was well aware of that – she wasn't cut out for that kind of responsibilities. She was barely sixteen.

She had been caught completely off guard by the pain that followed.

She'd named it. She'd grown tired of thinking of it as a mishap, an accident, or just as "it". It was too big, too weighty to just be brushed aside. _It was hers and Tom's._ The name she gave it was a shameful secret. – What kind of freak names a lump of cells that has made its end in a stained old toilet bowl?

She named it after the month when it happened – _May._

------------------

_July._

The first one was a freak accident – something that just happened. Then, weeks before her wedding as she saw the stick forming a plus within seconds, it didn't even occur to her. That it could ever happen again.

_Her wedding day._

It _did_ seem too good to be true. She wasn't used to getting what she wanted. She was unaccustomed to happiness and try as she might she couldn't remember having ever felt that everything was just about right. Only this once, for a few precious days. Her little secret growing in her belly – a man that seemed to love her. A whole family behind him that had welcomed her in with open arms. She was already planning on how to break the news - on their honeymoon. She'd drop it casually in a conversation and she could already picture his face – beaming – his joy matching hers. And it happened exactly like that. He had shrieked and lifted her high, twirled her around like in some corny Hallmark movie. He had taken time off for their first doctor's appointment.

She can still remember everything about that appointment, everything. Their sweaty palms squeezing each other's hands as the doctor puts jelly on her lower abdomen for the ultrasound. Everything – down to the silly clown pattern on the doctor's tie under the white coat. His family picture on his desk. The little origami paper bird hanging above the examination table.

And then the end.

"I am sorry. There is no heartbeat."

_It can't be. Must be a mistake._

"These things happen all the time. You're young – you have plenty of time to try again."

Kevin had clutched her hand - too hard. They learned new words. Words they'd wished they'd never had heard of. D&C. Missed abortion. _Try again._

It was a late enough loss for the doctor to advise her to do the D&C. _Get it over with quickly_. It hadn't hurt - not physically. He'd put her under and when she woke up it was already done. Her baby – gone.

And the emptiness. _Unbearable._

She couldn't even do what every woman's body is designed to do – that one simple, undeniable purpose. Defective. He mother was right. She wasn't any good for anything.

_Unworthy._

Home to their little perfect house. Her hand on her belly. _Empty._ Crying in the shower, blood dripping down the inside of her thighs, mixing with the soapy foam. She watches it swirl towards the drain at her feet. Her knuckles pushed hard between her teeth –trying to muffle the sorrow.

He had tried to be supportive. It was painfully clear. He'd hugged her close at night and she had almost felt like suffocating. She didn't want him to touch her. Didn't want to feel.

_Anything._

That was July. A second large gapping hole was left in her heart.

* * *

_-_

_November_.

She had gotten pregnant immediately after the D&C and later when the doctor asked; _why so soon_ – she had heard the clear accusation hidden behind the question.

_You did this. You did something wrong. Your fault._

She had wanted to ask for testing. Something must be wrong.

"After three spontaneous losses we'll do a work up for habitual abortion. This is only the second, these things are really common early on. I'm sure the next pregnancy will be fine."

She couldn't even tell him about the first loss -the one way back then, _her May_ – and that they were already on number three. Not with Kevin in the room.

She had looked over at Kevin's pained smile, accepting the doctors medical platitudes with an ease that she'd envied. _Spontaneous_ abortion – the words like an open handed slap across her face. Like it was something you did while skipping joyfully, all spontaneous and happy-go-lucky. And _habitual_ – a bad little habit that she had, a little quirky hobby. She pulled her hand out of Kevin's, feeling the ravine widening between them. She was alone about this. _Her body._ Her fault.

_Not worthy._

Her mother-in-law had hugged her close when they'd arrived home after the second D&C.

"I'm so sorry honey. It just wasn't your time yet – you _will_ get one when you are ready," she had whispered, stroking Kate's hair. Kate had felt her whole body go rigid.

She couldn't deal with the pity, the physical closeness. It was eating her up. It was all that she could do to stay in one piece, stay sane and get up every morning. Worst of all, the knowing that this was her punishment, for taking a life, for being the awful person she was. And she knew there was a certain fairness and justice in all of these losses. She didn't deserve a child – of course God wouldn't give a baby to someone like her. _Christ -_ her own husband didn't even know her real name.

November tore another jagged hole, perhaps the largest one yet, right next to May and July.

* * *

_February._

After November – all was changed. She went through the motions. Pretended to be hopeful. After the physical pain was gone following the D&C, Kevin expected her to go back to normal, everyone else did too. You don't grieve a miscarriage of a three month old fetus the way you mourn a child.

_But she did_. She did.

And everywhere she looked, there were children, mothers, babies and distended pregnant bellies. She grew restless and she started wondering if she could ever make up for the past.

Then came February - it was brief and reminiscent of May – her first one. She didn't even have time to tell Kevin about it before it was too late. It happened at home. The familiar sight of blood on the toilet paper as she wiped. She remained seated on the toilet for the longest time. Hyperventilating. Her head cradled in her hands trying to calm her breathing. She decided not to think of it – to try to erase it from her mind. Her heart like a little Swiss cheese for all the holes. She didn't think she could survive another one. Still she got up every morning. Never told Kevin – she just couldn't. _The shame of it_ – too imposing, too large. No more. Never again. She took a pregnancy test a few weeks later to make sure she had past all of the tissue. It was negative.

_She still wasn't worthy._

She couldn't sleep with Kevin after that. She would still make love – she'd force herself to go through the motions. _Faking it for him_. She'd fake being normal, that she wasn't scared out of her mind. She'd wait until his breathing slowed down and he snored lightly before she'd sneak out to the living room. If discovered she'd say she wanted to watch TV – that she wasn't tired. But she couldn't sleep next to him. Couldn't stand even the accidental contact with her skin. Her dysfunctional, useless body. _Poor Kevin._ What a worthless mess he had married. He deserved better than her ruined, worthless body. She had wanted a normal life above all, but it didn't look like that was ever going to be part of her future.

_Too late._

It was after February that she decided to contact the Marshall. The thought that kept running through her mind as if looped; to make amends. To stop running. To come clean, at least to Kevin. Or she'd never be allowed to keep a baby.

In the end - it was also February that convinced her to give up Kevin. Give up the dream of being normal. She had tried so hard. So she did what she'd always done.

_She ran._

* * *

That last one.

_December._

She doesn't know exactly when it had happened - though hardly ought to be a big mystery. Perhaps it had happened that first time at the cages. Or perhaps a little later - at the beach.

They hadn't exactly taken any precautions. And she cursed at her own recklessness - feeling the panic taking its hold on her. _The stupidity of it_. It wasn't as if she'd ever had any problems getting pregnant – only staying that way. She'd felt such a fool. _Such an idiot_. And she'd known that she was pregnant, known before she was even that late. She didn't need a test for that. The same familiar discomfort in her lower belly, an easily recognizable sensitivity and fullness of the breasts. She knew. Just knew.

His.

She had perhaps imagined that it might have been different on the island but as she found herself crouching in the jungle, the familiar contractions in her uterus and the blood leaving her body, she had understood that it was all the same. Nothing had changed.

_Still not worthy_.

She imagined the holes punched in her heart like the five petals of a flower.

* * *

That morning. Half awake, her head on his shoulder, the smell of him, heady and stirring. She feels herself responding, her body readying itself for him. As always. His lips, implausibly sweet for a man first thing in the morning. He rolls on top of her, nudges her thighs open with his leg. And then the claustrophobia hits.

_No. _

She can't breathe.

" No. Sawyer." Shoving him away rougher than necessary.

"What? What, what'd I say?"

"Forget it."

She concentrates on pushing the panic away. The loss too fresh. She can't risk it again. _Him._ Next to her. He who knows her better than anyone else – he doesn't know – doesn't understand, but still his snide comment hits dangerously close to home.

"Alright. You still think you might be pregnant…"

The pain that sears through her is immediate and scorching.

"I'm not worried. And I'm not pregnant!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah I'm sure."

His giddy display of relief completely shatters her - the little bit left that was still whole. He laughs. Pulverizing her. His blond beauty heart-wrenching there in the bed.

_That's what December might have been like._ So many could have, might have, and would have.

_None materialized._

"Would it have been the worst thing in the world?" she fails to keep the hurt out of her voice but he doesn't catch on to it – basking in his own relief.

"Yes, yes it would have been the worst thing in the world. What would we have done with a baby?"_._

"I'm going back to the beach."

She has to get away from this. She wants to tear through the jungle. Stomp out her anger, her failure and her anguish in a sweaty frantic run through the hostile terrain of the island. The slap - immediately regretted. She'd taken it out on him. Her own failure. Her unworthiness.

_What would we have done with a baby?_

Indeed. What would she have done with a living breathing baby. She could hardly handle her five dead ones. Couldn't even tell him about his one. The last in the row of hard pebbles of sorrow.

His.

_December._

_--------------------  
_

Thanks for reading. Always grateful for reviews.


	2. Chapter 2

_Was going to let it be a one shot but decided to add a second part – taking place in S5: "Whatever happened happened".  
_

_Spinning off on that little scene where Amy asks Juliet whether they are going to have kids and the interaction between Juliet and Kate. Why are they were both so set on saving young Ben? I imagine some kind of understanding between them, a shared a secret of sorts, prompting Juliet to send Sawyer to Kate with Ben. (Deals with loss and infertility). _

_Disclaimer: None of it is mine. None of it._

_

* * *

_

**Part II. His December**

* * *

**- Juliet and James -**

That day - when they came back - almost three years to the day since they left.

His hurried raffling through their wardrobes, throwing clothes on their bed and she just knows the end is near.

"They're back," he had said and her world came crashing down. Their carefully constructed walls falling in around her.

"I'm sorry, who's back?" she'd asked. She'd known already.

"Jack, Hurley, Kate."

_No. No. Not now. Too fragile. She can't. Not now._

* * *

"So, when are you and Jim gonna' have one of these?"

Juliet forces herself to flash Amy a smile and avoids meeting her eyes over the baby. She knows that Amy has had her share of tragedy and has no way of knowing that the question might be hurtful. Nevertheless - it makes her throat burn. Especially now - with _them_ here. She is still in a state of shock that they came back. They've got to get them in now, quickly, before they ruin everything.

"I don't know. The timing's got to be right." she mumbles and hurriedly gathers up her documents. She's got to get away.

_She hates when she gets like this._

-----------------

.

It's seems like since forever that they've been trying. And perhaps it isn't such a long time - but to her - it's an eternity.

At first there was the euphoria of throwing all caution to the wind. Of ignoring the fact that they were stuck in the 70s and just going for it.

_They had been so naïve. So stupid._

Thought that it was enough that they've made up their minds. That all would fall into place so easily - just because they were ready. Month after month had come and gone and as he grew more and more weary she became more anxious, doubtful and yes – perhaps even possessed. And that naïvity - that total innocence in the belief that she could somehow decide over her own life. That all it takes is a decision. _How she wishes she could have it back._

Her whole life she had been convinced that if you focus, put all your efforts on achieving something – you will succeed.

_But this? _

Her inability to achieve this most fundamental, basic goal had completely wiped out her sense of self. How easily she had disintegrated. She'd become a person she did not recognize. The type of woman she didn't even want to be friends with, much less, live with. The simple life with James that she had taken so much pleasure in, the type of life she had never though she'd be satisfied with, was crumbling.

Month by month, another little piece fell off, another crack appeared. And she hated herself for it. For doing this to him – to herself – to them - but the urge to continue was impossible suppress.

_Obsessed._

He had thrown in her face after a year of trying. He had entered their living room, found her on the sofa with the bottle of Scotch cradled in her arms, like one might a baby.

"No?" he had asked cautiously. Knowing how these days would bring her down. How the melancholia would settle in their house once every month, darkening everything. Then she'd get her spirits up again, somehow picking up her courage and start keeping track of her temperatures and chart her cycle again. Only to crash again after another twenty eight or so days.

"No, not this month." She had said, the calmness of her voice belying the turmoil inside. She had taken a big chug from the bottle. More like a dockworker than the refine, intelligent woman he knew. He'd sat down on the edge of the coach. Edged the bottle out of her hands and placed it on the table. A warm large hand placed on her hip.

"Baby, we can't keep doing this. I can't stand seeing you like this," he'd sighed and combed his fingers through the hair above his forehead. Looking tired and defeated. "Maybe it isn't meant to be?"

He had tried to smoothen over it only realizing too late that he was only digging himself into what seemed to be an impending fight. Juliet prickly and vulnerable, needing only the slightest nudge to set her off. She had just glared at him, her eyes dark, aching and hostile. Not his Juliet – he knew she was slipping away, the brave, capable, unflappable Juliet that he had been able to depend upon. The frustration of not being able to take this pain away from her. He can't fix this.

"Be realistic Jules. If it is supposed to be it will happen. We can be happy as we are." He had looked at her almost pleadingly. She still hadn't replied, just met his eyes - defiantly. Not his.

"You are becoming _obsessed_ with this! - and I am fucking tired. I just wish you could relax about it," he'd blurted out and though it was the honest to God truth - the instant the words were out he'd wanted to take them back. She had lashed out immediately, in a way he wasn't used to.

"Relax!? I'm pushing forty. I've waited all my life for a man that isn't a complete asshole and when I've finally found him I can't have a family with him! How can I relax ?" she had shouted. Not caring if the whole D.I. heard her. Her words bit down on him, his face flushing slightly. Seemingly aggravated and frustrated by her inexplicable aggression.

"Forty is no age Jules. Lots of people have babies past forty and the stress can…"

She had hissed like a cobra at that. Gotten up from her horizontal position in the sofa and shoved him aside.

"Don't _**you**_ talk to me about stress!! This is what I do! I'm a fertility expert, how stupid is that!? And I can't even get myself pregnant. The ironic thing is; that if I **_were_** my own patient I would have told myself that I've left it too long. - And I would be a hell of a lot less stressed if you didn't tell me to relax!"

She'd gotten up from the sofa, snatched the bottle from the table and sashayed past him towards the bedroom. She seriously needed to slam a door right now. He had swished around and grabbed her upper arm, stopping her in her stride. _Damn_. She had felt the tears welling up. She blamed it on the drink, the miserable timing and the cruel arrival of her period. Hated him looking at her like this – a mixture of pity and confusion. Perplexed, as if he were trying to figure out who the hell this deranged woman in his and Juliet's living room was.

"You ain't making any sense sweetheart. And maybe this ain't about you. What if there is a problem with me? You ever thought of that? Maybe I'm the asshole you should get mad out ever time the crimson bandit shows up at our house!"

She knew it was meant to pacify her, that he meant well, but she was hurt and damn it, she had every right to be a bit irrational. Something exploded within. She rips her arm out from his grip.

" It isn't you alright! It is **_me_**, all me!"

_It **is** her._

She knows it. It's ironic and moronic to think of all those years of wasted birth control. She could have just been wild and reckless. It sure as hell wouldn't have mattered. It is her.

His fertility - pretty much a proven fact - and quite recently too. Though he doesn't know .

_Only because she swore never to tell him._

* * *

**- Juliet and Kate -**

_It was so long ago. _

It had been during that last stretch of time when it seemed all they did was running around. Before they were left behind and the world started spinning. Back when Sawyer was just an annoying redneck and not _'her'_ James.

It was a memory that perhaps should have lost its significance with time, buried among all the confusion and all of the horrible things that had happened then. But she had remembered and it had haunted her. Especially lately, since _**they**_, no _**she**_, had returned.

She'd accidentally run into her by the creek. At first she had thought she was injured. There she was, her dark hair had been a sweaty mess, she'd been squatting down, bare feet in the water, washing out a load of rags. So much blood, her little section of the clear water was tinted pink. Juliet must have stepped on a twig or something – Kate's head spinning around - her eyes like a hunted animal; large, suspicious and feral.

"Go away!" Her voice low but the threat unveiled. _Go away. I don't want you to see this. _

"What…., what happened?" Juliet couldn't help staring at the twirls of pink and scarlet as Kate manically scrubbed the rags against the stones.

"My period." She had hunched up her shoulders, deliberately turning her back on Juliet, indicating that their little chat was over. _Get lost! You're not wanted here._

"Kate, that's too much blood. That's not from your period, all those cloths. Are you ok?"

She had watched as Kate's profile grew stiff, her jaw set in that obstinate, harsh angle.

_Refusing to answer. _

Juliet had approached her like she imagined you'd get near a barely tame predator, afraid that she might pounce. And if Kate had had fangs, she'd surely have bared them. The mixture of animosity and fear tainted everything about the girl.

Juliet had wanted to put a hand on her shoulders but she had understood that it would have been at her own risk. Something beastlike and savage about her.

"You've had a miscarriage Kate? Out here - on your own?"

Kate had swung her head to face her, and what she'd seen almost blew her backwards. She hadn't really expected an answer, but the look on Kate's face was confirmation enough. _No. Don't get near._

"I don't need your help. Go away!" a throaty whisper – almost not human.

Juliet had gone into her doctor-mode, her comfort zone. She knew it was her own way to cope, not to get sucked in emotionally. Because the only other option would have been to recognize the total heartbreak in the other's face and to weep with her. And she knew instinctively that to show her pity - would send the other woman off her ledge.

"You won't be able to know if you passed all of the tissue. I'll get you some antibiotics from Jack's medical stash so you don't end up with an infection. Just to be on the sure side."

She had stood up with a, what she hoped, reassuring smile, and astonishingly Kate had swung around and clasped hold on Juliet's upper arm.

"Don't…." she had sucked in air as if she were struggling to get enough oxygen. "Don't tell him. Anyone. Promise…"

Juliet had put her hand over Kate's and for the briefest moment, she had understood this absurdly strange woman on a level that shook her. Where previously she had only seen her fickle volatility and selfishness, she now saw nothing but - shame. A discomforting raw, seething shame that made showing her compassion impossible. She wouldn't be able to accept it. Wouldn't allow it.

"I won't tell anyone Kate. I promise."

She had left her there at the creek. Turned once only to see the other woman's back set in a despondent curve. Washing away the proof of her shameful inadequacy.

* * *

_For three years, Juliet has been the uneasy keeper of Kate's secret. _

But she can't help to think of it today as she watches the other woman's single-minded pursuit. The lengths she is willing to go for the injured boy. The infant Benjamin Linus. And it crosses Juliet's mind that it is something she does to heal herself – to heal **_that_** shame. She must have carried it all these years, must have let it fester and grow within, become part of who she is.

She is trying to redeem herself for something. Something that wasn't in her power to prevent in the first place.

"This might hurt for a second," Juliet says, taking care to find the right angle to insert the needle. She struggles to keep her hand steady. The thought of Ben here, his life hanging by a thread, deeply perturbing. Kate averts her eyes from the needle piercing her skin. Juliet wants to tell her; _it isn't your fault. You didn't do this._

"Good. Very brave."

Kate smiles at her. As if the offhanded compliment actually means something to her. It tugs at Juliet's heart to see the shy childish pleasure showing through so obviously.

"So James told me Jack wouldn't help, but he didn't say why," she says as she places a strip of surgical tape over the needle to keep it in place.

"If I understood why Jack does what he does, I sure as hell wouldn't be sitting here." The bitterness in the other woman's voice takes her by surprise. And then again - not really. It makes perfect sense.

"Off island, did something happen with you two?"

"We were engaged. Does _that_ count?" They both look away, refusing to meet each other's eyes. It's too uncomfortable. To tense. They both know why – yet, they will never be able to talk about it.

The memory of Kate and her pain. That look on her face – the shame. Unmentionable.

* * *

_She had kept her promise._

For three years, she had kept this from James. They, who had shared everything. It had bubbled under the surface. All the times that she'd almost told him. But now - with Ben fatally injured- and Kate taking off alone in her desperate attempt at saving his life.

She tells him. It all spills out now - she stumbles over the words, a seemingly bizarre confession in light of the urgency required by the situation. She tells him so that he'll understand why he has to help them. Help her.

He doesn't say anything, just hugs her close. As if she is the one at the centre of the tragedy, when really, she was just a bystander. Just happened to catch a fleeting glimpse of the other's sorrow.

She mumbles "I'm sorry" under her breath as if she's somehow to blame. But mostly, it's meant for Kate – for betraying someone that she's never understood but who she feels strangely kindred to. And it isn't about _him _– though he is definitely a part of it – it is something she can't explain. Bound together by an unwelcome sisterhood of infertility and loss - both just two sides of the same coin and any way you want to spin it; both will destroy you, change you, take something away from your person.

* * *

**- Kate and James -**

Kate looks at him incredulously as he keys in the code for the fence.

"Hey. Why are you doing this? Why are you helping me? "

He can't swallow it. Juliet's story sits like a large lump in his throat. Can't merge the image of this strong, stubborn woman with the broken wreckage of a person that Juliet describes. And the thought that he did that to her. He'd done that.

" When I found out Ben was gone, and Juliet told me what you were up to, I asked that exact damn question. Why are you helping Ben? And she said...no matter what he's gonna' grow up to be, it's wrong to let a kid die."

She'd said a hell of a lot more. The picture she'd painted had made him nauseous. He tries to push the thoughts away. Unasked for. He didn't need this information.

Together they haul up Ben up and carefully bring him down from the van.

" So...that's why I'm doing this. I'm doing it for _**her**_." His voice gruff and needlessly harsh.

He doesn't know why he says it. Unnecessarily cruel. _**'For her'**_. And he doesn't know if he's talking about Juliet, or about 'her', the girl that she'd just told him about. _The girl standing in front of him_ – that he knows so little about. The thoughts swirl around, relentless and exhausting as he reexamines every interaction, every memory of their encounters.

_How could he not have known? What sort of insensitive bastard is he?_

He turns and starts walking towards the fence. An irrational anger stewing in him. He knows he has no right to it. Still – he feels like something's been taken from him.

_Something he can never get back. _

* * *

He lays Ben on the ground – gently. Needs to take a rest. The conversation is civil, soft, friendly even. Until he says it:

"You and me would've never worked out, Kate. I wasn't any more fit to be your boyfriend than I am to be that little girl's father. "

"You seem to be doing all right with Juliet." She says it lightly. As if it isn't bothering her, but he can see it in the tenseness of her muscles. The sharp line of her neck, even though she gives him a half smile.

"Yeah. I've done a lot of growing up the past three years."

He hates himself for not seeing – for not understanding. It was right there in front of his eyes and perhaps he chose not to see. Perhaps it would have been too complicated. He'd thought it was about the other man – the increasingly frustrating indecision. The pushing him away and then pulling him back in. How could he not have known?

_And why wouldn't she let him in? _

"Why didn't you tell me?" he can't help it. The words just spill out. He knows this is not the time and place, but hell – he's got to know.

"What?"

"The baby – I had to find out from Juliet?!" The resentment fermenting inside of him and it isn't only about her not telling him. It is about Juliet having to do it. He imagines how it must have broken her heart.

Kate turns her head away, her face, an inexpressive plate of pale armour. She won't let him see her, treating him like a stranger, as if he never meant anything to her.

"It wasn't about you James."

"The hell it wasn't. It was about you and me and …"

An imaginary memory of her – alone in the jungle – bleeding and scared. But most of all alone. It shatters him. He wasn't there - caught up and embroiled in the ridiculous rivalry and a tussle that seems like adolescent nonsense now.

"It wouldn't have changed a thing," she says quietly, but the way her tone drops at the end of the sentence, makes it sound almost like a question.

"It would have changed _**everything**_."

Her mouth set in that stubborn line that he remembers so well. And he sees her pain – though she is trying so hard to hide it. The attraction back then, that had been so overpowering - blinding him to everything - the jealousy too. It had been all about him. He can't believe he had missed it, had never even suspected. He imagines her alone in the bush, red blood against the unreal green of the forest floor.

She must have walked so far to have some sort of privacy – or had it happened suddenly? Had she just cleaned herself up, joined the others and pretended like nothing had happened? He keeps wondering when. Was he there – around somewhere? How could he not have noticed? He was in love with her after all. Tenacious and proud, he knows she wouldn't have cried. She'd have swallowed it all and concentrated her anger at him or at some other suitable target.

"You said yourself it never would have worked out."

"That don't mean I don't feel for you!"

Something flashes in her face and he figures she must have grown up too. In the old days she would have punched him – and he almost misses it – wishes she had. Because any reaction would have been better than this.

Her distance. Arms crossed across her chest, hugging herself like a little insecure kid. Closing herself in. Her knuckles a tensely white. And the truth is; _he does feel for her_. It has changed – and it might have to do with Juliet – or it might just be her. But he feels a surge of compassion for her that has nothing to do with the intense pull and draw of their early days.

"Don't….." she hisses between clenched teeth.

"I am your friend, whatever you say, you can't change that."

"You're not my friend Sawyer," she says coolly, the green of her eyes almost black in her ashen face. And back in the days he might have been fooled by that, injured pride and all.

_But not now. Not anymore._

So he does the only thing he can. He reaches out to grab her sleeves, pulling her into his arms. Drawing her close, his hands spread wide, rubbing her back like you might an upset child. Her hair tickles his nose and he wants to cry for her - because she doesn't - she can't - she won't.

Her whole body stiff like a floor board. She doesn't even unfold her arms, making the hug awkward and one-sided. But this is not about him. His fingers on her neck, stroking upwards into her hair. He rocks her slowly, swaying her back and forth in a vain attempt to loosen up the bundle of nerves entangled by years of holding back.

"It's ok. It's alright baby…..I didn't know.."

"I don't think of it anymore," she lies. "Not before you dragged it up." Her voice muffled against his chest as she struggles to pull away from him. He knows she won't let him in. _Not ever. _And it isn't about pride he suddenly realizes.

_She's ashamed. - _That's what this is.

_Shame._

The way she refuses to meet his eyes - the stand-offish detachment. _He recognizes it. _He recognizes it in Juliet's strained voice and the cool distance it creates between them every month, like clockwork. For every month that she comes out of their bathroom with disappointment written all over her face. A shrug that belies the sadness underneath, the forced little smile that breaks his heart, every time.

"_Nope. Not our month - James."_

The fucked-up irony of it. A baby-girl with a woman he never planned on staying with – growing up without a father. Another one of his damned accidental babies, bled out in the fucking jungle. The loss of the girl he used to love – and a baby that might have changed everything between them – and perhaps did. The courageous struggle of Juliet – a baby wanted, desired, wished for – probably never to be conceived.

_Nothing will ever turn out the way it ought to. _

She untangles herself from him. Pushes him away, eyes mulishly on the ground, on her feet and his mind is blank. He wants to say something. Make it better, take away some of her pain – the shame. But he knows he won't ever get through.

_Too late._

"We better get going," she mumbles. He reaches for something to say and comes up empty. He doesn't know why he brought it up. Perhaps he was hoping for some kind of resolution but he realizes that it has done absolutely nothing. He has accomplished nothing but an expansion of the gap between them .She will pretend as if this conversation never took place. _She would never have allowed him in – even back then._ Had there ever even been a window during their time together? He seriously doubts it.

" Hands up!!!

The sound of cocked rifles around them wakes him up. He turns as if in slow motion, seeing at the corner of his eye how Kate stretches her arms up above her head. She doesn't look frightened. He is shocked to see expression on her face – all tension gone. As if the men with the rifles have come to rescue _**her**_. As if _**he**_ and his hug and his pity is more of a threat to her – than a man pointing a weapon at her. She is completely relaxed now - now that the conversation has been effectively concluded.

_There will be no more talk about dead babies._

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_**Thanks for reading - please leave a review if you liked it. **_


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